


I Bet You Think This Song Is About You

by Trent_In_A_Tree



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: Angst, Feminization, I'll tag more detail l8r when I write it even tho I have a basic plan, M/M, Masturbation, a lil, there will be sex tho, will it work out??? You will see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trent_In_A_Tree/pseuds/Trent_In_A_Tree
Summary: "Truth, or truth." Marilyn uttered as a statement."Second truth." Trent ran a hand through his hair.--Or, Marilyn starts having feelings for Trent. Things ensue. It'll be good; trust me.





	1. kiss me, kiss me, kiss me

**Author's Note:**

> first series on this site. I promise I'll actually keep it updated. 
> 
> quick warning for a kiss without consent. one person is passed out. it's only a kiss, but if that upsets you, here's your warning. 
> 
> ENJOY GUYS OK I PROMISE THAT IM GONNA MAKE THIS FIC SUPER GOOD LOL

The room was hazy with smoke and the joint that Marilyn and Trent had just shared was sitting, smouldering in the crystal ash tray on the low table in front of the couch. 

"Truth or truth. Too lazy to move." Trent spoke shortly and suddenly, putting his beer to his lips and then training his eyes on Marilyn. 

"Truth. The first truth." Marilyn spoke, grinning. 

"Hm, would you... would you ever let a dog fuck you?" Trent burst into snorting laughter after the question. 

"No, dude. I don't take cock from anyone." Marilyn rolled his eyes, falling back on the couch, regarding Trent halo'd in smoke above him. 

Trent began to laugh, his laugh shimmering in Marilyn's mind as something glassy and pleasant, and Marilyn thought dimly that Trent's strong jaw and pink lips and heavy eyes were pretty. He was nice to look at, and Marilyn wondered what he'd look like with his mouth hanging open, releasing pretty sounds as he was fucked. 

"Truth, or truth." Marilyn uttered as a statement. 

"Second truth." Trent ran a hand through his hair. 

"Would you fuck a man?" Marilyn asked. 

Trent grinned slowly. 

"Well, would you?" Pressed Marilyn. 

"I am so fucking high right now." Trent whined. 

"Answer me!" Marilyn persisted. 

Trent trained his hazel eyes intensely on Marilyn, who was lying back on the couch, each of his ribs visible through the sweat soaked fabric of his shirt. 

"Maybe, if he were you." Trent spoke groggily, then fell straight down on his side, seeming to fall asleep. 

Sighing, Marilyn picked up the joint, and smoked the rest of it, refusing to cough, choking down the smoke. His head clouded completely, and he thought that Trent was a smokey angel, lying peacefully knocked out across the couch. 

Maybe if he were you. 

Marilyn got up on all fours, trying his best to stay steady, leaning down to see Trent's face looking so peaceful, dark eyelashes sweet and curled and eyebrows free of tenseness, which was unusual for him. He wondered if he'd like kissing Trent. Slowly, Marilyn leaned down, pressing his lips to Trent's, messily smearing lipstick onto the other man's mouth, probing the pink, soft mouth with his tongue. He whined carnally, feeling violently ashamed of the stirring between he legs. So he liked kissing Trent. 

Marilyn pulled back, reaching forward and wiping lipstick from Trent's mouth with his fingertips, his heartbeat thumping in his chest. Ignoring the tenseness building in the front of his pants, Marilyn laid back on the other side of the couch, trying to lighten his breathing as he rubbed the excess lipstick off on his jeans. He shut his eyes, hoping desperately to fall asleep, hoping desperately that the drugs would knock him out. More importantly, he prayed he wouldn't remember any of this the next day. 

He hoped Trent wouldn't either.


	2. a gorgeous strawberry kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dude, are those organic?" Trent jumped at Marilyn's voice around the corner from him.   
> \--  
> Or, Trent doesn't remember, but does Marilyn?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, all the chapter titles are stupid Cure refs so far. no I wont stop.

Trent woke up with a throbbing headache, and a memory that he hoped he'd imagined. He hoisted himself up on the couch, pulling himself into a sitting position, eyes half shut because light was streaming in between the blinds, and Trent was far too hungover to want light blazing directly in his eyes. 

What was it that he had remembered? 

He had forgotten it, whatever it was. Sometimes Trent felt like he was waking up from a dream after a heavy night of drug use and drinking; things that he remembered immediately after waking would dissapear into smoke. Sighing, he rubbed his temples, looking down at Marilyn's extended body through squinted eyes, feeling the same nearly stale repeated emotion he always felt when Marilyn passed out in front of him; that he was beautiful and elegant and snakelike. Trent's half shut eyes scrolled down Marilyn's body, from the peaceful face buried in his own alabaster shoulder, to the sliver of hips showing where his shirt was pulled up by the aforementioned arm serving as Marilyn's pillow. Marilyn's other hand had lipstick rubbed off on the fingertips. Trent wondered why for a second, then realized the other man must have just been wiping his mouth. But the sight of red striking so visibly against the paleness of Marilyn's fingers was beautiful to Trent, for some reason. 

Trent was broken out of his adoration by his stomach rumbling with extreme hunger, the typical effects of smoking too much weed. He leaned forward, shaking Marilyn's shoulder halfheartedly, failing to wake him up, unsurprisingly. Trent stood up from the couch, running his fingers through his hair as if it would negate his headache, and walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, wincing at the whiteness of the light exuding from it; the brightness burnt his eyes. He grabbed the first edible looking thing, a container of strawberries, and shut the fridge as fast as he could. 

"Dude, are those organic?" Trent jumped at Marilyn's voice around the corner from him. 

"You fucking scared me." Trent spoke accusatorily, turning around, "Also, no, they're not organic." 

"Organic fruits are better for the system." Marilyn said, and Trent searched his face for a sign of irony, but couldn't find it. 

"Brian, why the polite fuck do you care about organic fruit when you do cocaine at least weekly?" Trent rolled his eyes. 

"I... nevermind." Marilyn spoke, walking over to Trent in three long strides. 

Trent took off the lid of the strawberry container, and looked at Marilyn, one eyebrow raised. Sighing, Marilyn picked up a strawberry and popped it into his strawberry colored mouth. 

"You're an asshole." Trent said, looking up at Marilyn. 

"You like that, don't you?" Marilyn said playfully. 

Statements like that always hit Trent wrong, because they made his head rush- did Marilyn know how he felt? He was looking at Trent, unbridled intensity in his eyes. Trent decided to evade the question. 

"Are the strawberries okay for your sensitive self?" Trent rolled his eyes. 

"Yes, Trent, they're fine. I'd just prefer..." that look again, dark eyes trained on Trent, " _Better_ ones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should keep making the chapters short so I can update lots. thoughts?


	3. torture; but I'm almost there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I please fucking piss?" Trent's shout came from outside. 
> 
> "I don't know, can you?" Marilyn hollered back, dipping his fingers into the Vaseline and slathering it all over his eyelid and brow on the left side.

Marilyn had been overthinking it. He really had. Either Trent wanted to fuck, or he didn't, and either way, he didn't remember what he'd said to Marilyn the day before, anyway. 

"Are you done yet?!" Called Trent from the other room. 

"No, dude! I'm having indigestion; fuck off!" Marilyn lied, in actuality he wasn't even using the toilet; instead, he was sitting on the shut lid. 

"Sorry, didn't know you were this sensitive to unorganic fruits." Trent responded loudly from the other room. 

Marilyn scoffed, rolling his eyes, wondering why he even wanted to fuck Trent anyway. He put his face in his hands, knowing that, in actuality, that question was an extremely easy one to answer; an answer that he did not have to go into the specifics of because it would put him into an utter state. Marilyn hated to get soppy and dramatic about emotions. 

Sighing, he stood up from the toilet seat, flushing the toilet to make it sound like he hadn't just been sitting there, having a midlife crisis at the tender age of 25. Maybe he would really only live to be 40; Trent would probably kill him. Marilyn walked to the sink, switched it on, and washed his hands, then caught sight of the day old makeup on his face. Sighing, he opened the cabinet on the wall, pulling out his standard tub of Vaseline. 

"Can I please fucking piss?" Trent's shout came from outside. 

"I don't know, can you?" Marilyn hollered back, dipping his fingers into the Vaseline and slathering it all over his eyelid and brow on the left side. 

The door opened, and Trent walked into the bathroom. Marilyn could see him in the mirror through his right eye, unobstructed by Vaseline. 

"Yeah, I can." Trent spoke, then a look of slight worry flickered across his face, "Do you mind if I do?" 

"No, of course I don't. Go ahead." Marilyn spoke, trying not to sound tense. 

He deliberately looked away from Trent, grabbing a tissue from the box on the counter, and began to aggressively wipe his makeup off. Once his left eye was makeup free, Marilyn rubbed Vaseline onto his right eye in the same fashion. He reached to the tissue box, discovering it to be empty. Slowly, Marilyn looked over to the toilet paper, then to Trent, who was holding his cock in his hand, pissing. Swallowing awkwardly, Marilyn slowly reached pass the singer's hip to grab a piece of toilet paper from the roll. 

He focused on the oblivious singer's hand, his fingers, his wandering eyes locking on the pink tip of Trent's cock, and Marilyn couldn't help thinking it was the same color as the inside of the strawberry he'd eaten earlier. Tearing his eyes away before Trent would notice, Marilyn felt a heavy blush rising in his cheeks. He could hear Trent zipping his pants up and then the toilet flushing as Marilyn made an effort to seem focused on his makeup removal. 

"Hey, man, scoot over." Trent said to Marilyn, forcing him out of his trance, "I need to wash my hands."

Marilyn stared at Trent's hands, watching him squirt soap from the container. The pearly soap dripped between his fingers, and Trent spread his hand momentarily, causing the soap to stretch in strings briefly before he shut his hand again to lather it into bubbles. Swallowing loudly with his heart in his throat, Marilyn turned around as subtly as he could. This was torture for the tall frontman. 

Every movement Trent made pushed him nearly over the edge, causing a stirring in his stomach, in his pants, or in his heart. His heart had flown up into his throat again at the sight of Trent's suspiciously erotic usage of soap. Marilyn thought to himself that it wasn't surprising; soap was really just hand lube anyway, when one thought about it enough. Pushing that stupid weed-type thought aside, Marilyn sighed to himself. 

Torture. Absolute torture, especially since Trent had told him he'd wanted him. Why hadn't Trent remembered what he said? It put Marilyn back to square one, and made his mind wander; worrying whether what Trent had said was really true; if it was, was Trent's desire anywhere near as intense as Marilyn's?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry more Cure refs. I lov them


	4. 4:13 dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent blushed in embarrassment, even though there was nobody to see him.

Marilyn's hand stroked Trent's cheek, down over the curve of his neck. It came to rest on the center of his chest. Marilyn tipped Trent's face up with the other hand, red lips coming in to press a harsh kiss to his mouth, hand on Trent's chest wandering again, finding its way to Trent's cock, already throbbing hard against the leather and fishnet confining it. Marilyn wordlessly reached down, unbuttoning the top of the shorts, unzipping them, pulling them off, and leaving Trent's thighs and crotch cloaked in fishnets. A big, spidery hand contrasted against the darkness of Trent's fishnets and underwear, squeezing his crotch, then laying flat again. 

Trent was paralyzed in place, caught in the intensity of the moment; he could not move. Marilyn's hand ground into his cock, and Trent heard himself whine. Something broke inside his stomach and he felt his cock twitch, threatening to cum just like that. 

"Cum for me." Marilyn's voice sounded far away, and the hand on his crotch seemed almost to flicker, then Trent came. 

Trent's eyes shot open and he sat up on the couch. 

"Fuck." He whispered, feeling the sticky mess in his underwear. 

Trent blushed in embarrassment, even though there was nobody to see him. He reached onto the table in front of the couch, where the joint he and Marilyn had shared had been sitting just days ago. He grabbed the clock and pulled it close, squinting to make out the time. Some light was coming through the curtains, but it was barely anything; just a tinge of day. 

4:13, blinked the clock. 

So it was a relatively unholy hour. Sighing, Trent stood up, thinking he should clean himself up. He was glad the floor didn't creak when he walked because he suspected Marilyn would not appreciate being woken up right now. Marilyn was in the bedroom, which was why Trent slept on the couch, because the other man was having an attitude. Trent suspected Marilyn just needed some space, so he'd given him it. 

As Trent made his way up the hall, he heard a muffled sound coming from Marilyn's room, and saw the door a crack open, light pouring out. At first, Trent assumed Marilyn was crying, because it wouldn't be entirely out of character, but then he heard a deep squeak in the back of the singer's throat. Trent quietly walked up to the door, looking through the crack to see quite a sight. Marilyn was sitting up on the bed, his legs spread and his hand between them, his arm muscle tense as he stroked himself rapidly. His mouth was buried in his shoulder and his eyes were squeezed shut, dark lashes making a strict line. His brow was furrowed and his mane of dark hair was swept almost artfully over the shoulder further away from Trent. 

Trent's heart beat fast, if Marilyn opened his eyes, he would see Trent. They would look straight into each other's eyes. It was ridiculously early in the morning. Marilyn had probably not been worrying about Trent of all people watching him, and clearly he hadn't noticed Trent was there, or else he wouldn't be there anymore. In fact, he wouldn't be in the house because Marilyn probably would beat his shit in. 

Trent swallowed his shame when he felt his cock getting hard again in his already soiled boxers. Nearly whining of embarrassment, he slipped his hand inside. Marilyn was still jacking off, not close to cumming yet, but fucking up into his hand with strong thrusts. Trent prayed Marilyn would keep his eyes shut, as he braced his shoulder against the wall of the hallway and stroked himself in time with Marilyn's strokes. His cock tingled and throbbed desperately, and Trent felt incredibly filthy for being so turned on by this mess. He pushed his hand over his mouth to stifle a moan, wishing it Marilyn's hand instead. 

Trent's body shook, sweat beading on his forehead and shoulders. His knees shook, threatening to give way. He watched Marilyn cry out, his hand falling off his cock as strands of cum scattered up his stomach, and Trent was pushed over the edge. He whined softly in shame as he felt warmth spill over his hand, compounding the mess in his pants. Marilyn still hasn't opened his eyes, but he could see his brows relaxing and the slow start of his eyes near opening. Trent quickly dove aside, stumbling down the hall, and landing back on the couch, clumsily. 

Breathing heavily, Trent pulled his hand out of his boxers, cum dripping between his fingers like the soap had earlier when he'd squirted it on his hands. He'd wished it was Marilyn's cum then, and he still did now. Shutting his eyes, Trent slipped a finger into his mouth, cleaning it with his tongue. He found himself blushing a soft pink, but he went on, licking off all his fingers until his hand was clean. 

Trent looked at the clock. 4:26. It had been only a bit more than ten minutes, and so much had happened. Sighing, Trent shut his eyes. He was incredibly physically exhausted, but he felt nice; his stomach was full of warmth and he felt relaxed. He'd clean up his mess tomorrow. He opened his eyes again and took his shirt off and laid it over his crotch, so as to cover the mess he'd made, just in case Marilyn woke up before him. Trent didn't want to explain the state of his boxers to his friend. Finally, Trent shut his eyes and felt himself drowse off smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if I can get thru this whole fic with cure ref chapter titles, I will


	5. I love what you do to my lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Would you kiss Robert Smith?" Marilyn blurted out, against all of his better judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the chapter... The Chapter. you'll see what I mean

"My back hurts." Trent complained. 

It had certainly been a long day today. Nine Inch Nails had had several press meetings, which Marilyn noticed always exhausted Trent. Then there was the performance. Trent had taken hold of the keyboard halfway through and uprooted it into the drums, to the great cheering of the audience. Now, Trent was lying on his back on the couch next to where Marilyn was sitting, his legs folded up in front of him. 

"No wonder, what with what you did to that poor keyboard." Marilyn laughed. 

"My whole body hurts." Trent whined. 

"Ugh, c'mere." Marilyn grabbed one of Trent's legs, pulling him down the couch and causing him to let out a squeaking sound. 

"That hurt!" Trent whined, and Marilyn slapped his leg playfully. 

"Stop bitching." He said, gently massaging the tips of his fingers into Trent's calf muscle, holding his ankle up with the other hand. 

"That's actually sort of nice." Trent said, putting his arms behind his head and regarding Marilyn with hazel green eyes. 

"My mom used to do this for me sometimes." Marilyn spoke, then moving on to the calf of Trent's other leg. 

"When?" Trent inquired, which Marilyn thought was an odd question, "Sorry, I just want to know more about what you were like when you were a kid... did you play sports? Play music? Climb trees? You've never really told me." 

"Oh, Trent..." Marilyn found himself trying very hard to disguise a smile as he made his hand into a fist and began to run his knuckles in firm lines up Trent's thigh slowly.

"Well?" Trent asked. 

"I didn't play sports; I always got picked last." Marilyn spoke, "It made me kind of, an outlier from the other boys. They thought it made me gay or something. I liked to read a lot, and I'd listen to records. I would steal books and records. But, no, I didn't play sports. Still don't."

"I didn't play sports either." Trent spoke, "Nobody really called me gay for it because I isolated myself from kids who would; I became one of those band kids who takes band two periods and doesn't really do much else. I always played the piano too, it was a refuge. And I had a Kiss poster." 

"I had a Kiss postcard that I kept in secret for good luck, but not where my parents could see it and accuse me of being satanic." Marilyn smiled uncharacteristically shyly, "I've never actually told anybody about that." 

"My grandma didn't care what music I listened to." Trent said, chewing his lip sadly, "I think she figured that since both my parents had basically up and outed on me, disciplining me was too cruel. Though she got really mad one time." 

"When was this?" Marilyn asked curiously. 

"When I was 14, I snuck out to see the Cure." Trent grinned, looking up at the ceiling as if reminiscing, "My grandma got so pissed." 

"Why?" Marilyn asked, realizing his hands were on Trent's hips now, dangerously close to his crotch. 

"I didn't tell her where I was going," Trent held up his hand, checking each thing off, "I took the car without her permission, I saw a 'gay' band in a sketchy club, I went alone, I lost my wallet, and I caught pneumonia from the rainy night." 

"Was it worth it?" Marilyn inquired. 

"Oh, yeah. It was completely worth it." Trent grinned, the proud smile of a disobedient 14 year old still, "I really loved Robert Smith." 

"Did you?" Marilyn said, lifting his hands off Trent's hips; afraid of being so close to his crotch. 

"Put your hands back." Trent said strongly. 

"I..." Marilyn's heart was beating unreasonably fast, and Trent took his hand in both of his, massaging the other man's long fingers slowly. 

"You've got awfully warm hands." Trent spoke softly, looking down past Marilyn's hand and at his own chest. 

"Are you... blushing?" Marilyn asked, his heart in his throat with the closeness. 

"No... just the light." Trent squeezed out of his throat. 

"Would you kiss Robert Smith?" Marilyn blurted out, against all of his better judgement. 

Trent'a hands froze on Marilyn's. Marilyn swore he could see Trent's Adam's Apple rising and then falling when he swallowed. 

"What is it that you actually want to ask me, Brian?" Trent asked softly, looking up at Marilyn, loosely holding his hand between his smaller ones now. 

Marilyn's heart was pumping uncontrollably, "Would you kiss... me?" 

Trent dropped Marilyn's hand, and Marilyn thought he was going to react badly. Damn him, he'd already said he'd fuck him. They had been high, though. There was a still moment before Trent or Marilyn did anything, then Trent got up on his knees and cupped Marilyn's face in his hands, pressing his lips softly to Marilyn's. One hand looped up into Marilyn's mane of dark hair, and Trent pulled their mouths apart, scattering lipstick prints up Marilyn's cheek. He pulled back and wiped off the rest of Marilyn's lipstick from his own mouth onto the back of his hand. 

"I did." Trent spoke softly. 

"Did what?" Marilyn asked. 

"Kissed Robert Smith. Never told anybody that, like your postcard." Trent bit his lip shyly, then grinned, "He got more lipstick on my mouth than you did, and my grandma didn't ever find out about that part of the concert, luckily." 

"Think he remembers you?" Marilyn asked. 

"I like to think so." Trent said, running his fingers through his hair. 

"I don't see how he could forget. I certainly never will." Marilyn cupped Trent's face in his hands, running his thumb over Trent's pink lips, still with a hint of lipstick wiped across them. 

"Kiss me again." Trent whispered, and Marilyn pressed his lips to Trent's again, rubbing more lipstick off on his mouth. 

Marilyn pushed Trent back on the couch, kissing his mouth roughly, slipping his tongue inside. Trent's tongue was warm and Marilyn delighted in the sounds he could draw out of the older man by touching Trent's tongue with his own. He thought Trent tasted like cherries and now like him. Marilyn pulled back, breathing heavily. 

"Did I get more lipstick on your mouth than Robert Smith did, now?" Marilyn asked, smirking at Trent. 

Slowly, Trent lifted his fingers to his mouth, touching his lips, red coming off on his fingers. 

"Fuck." Trent swallowed, "You did, and I'm kind of okay with it."

"Should we go on a date?" Marilyn asked, then giggled childishly. 

"You know, you may think that's funny, but maybe we should." Trent said, shrugging. 

"We're friends. That'd be kind of weird." Marilyn said. 

"Yeah, I feel you." Trent said, and Marilyn stood up. 

"I'm going to get some a beer, you want one?" He inquired. 

"Yeah, I do." Trent said, staring after Marilyn as the tall man began to walk away, then paused and turned around. 

Marilyn opened his mouth as if he was going to tell Trent something gravely important. 

"I-" he spoke heavily, "I think..." then Marilyn changed gears, "I'll be back soon." He said clippedly, turning away from Trent and walking off. 

Trent grinned to himself in his glory, but felt a certain concern and sadness. He wanted Marilyn to spend time with him as a lover, just to see, but he didn't want to lose his closest friend. 

He's tall, dark, and handsome. He's going to be a problem. 

Trent shook his head, knocking away that thought, snorting out a giggle. He was beginning to sound like his fucking grandmother. He hoped he could kiss Marilyn again soon, but he also wondered what the other man meant to say to him before he'd walked away. If there was one thing Trent knew about Marilyn, it was that he would never tell Trent whatever it was if he had resolved not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to bring in a bit more of a Cure ref given the chapter titles so far lmao. sorry I stan all the stereotypical gothy bands. also for wee NIИ fans who are wondering, Trent didn't kiss R.S. as far as we know so this is not canon. sorry. 
> 
> ~~I wish I could kiss everyone mentioned in this chapter-~~


	6. more constant, more real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is nice. I could do this." Marilyn said, cupping Trent's cheek in his hand.

Three days passed and Trent could swear Marilyn was ignoring him. It was like that one sort of ballet dance, where the dancers delicately and intentionally miss rendezvous when they dance across the stage. It had always made Trent sad, that sort of dance. The unresolved nature of it and also its finality had always made his heart hurt a little bit. Trent was bored of sitting around, waiting for Marilyn to talk to him, because it was all he would think about when he was in the house. He missed his friend. Trent walked down the hall to Marilyn's bedroom where he knew the other man was getting himself together to go out drinking. Trent banged on the door with his fist aggressively. 

"Open up!" Trent shouted, sounding much more desperate and angry than he'd intended. 

Marilyn wordlessly swung the door open, and Trent looked at him in a sort of shock. Marilyn had drawn on his eyebrows in the way Trent had always liked, strong and black, and that was untouched. But the eyeliner around his eyes was smeared, and his nose was a pink color, wet like some sort of sad little squirrel. Trent never thought he'd compare Marilyn, with his sizeable height, to a squirrel, but he looked so small right now. His eyes looked warm and round, and were coated with tears. 

"Brian?" Trent spoke gently. 

"I'm fine." Marilyn said gruffly, "Just getting ready." 

"You're not fine." Trent said, and again his statement came out harsher than he intended it. 

"Oh, what do you fucking know, anyway?" Spat Marilyn, crossing his arms. 

"This is ridiculous. Why won't you talk to me." Trent said angrily. 

"I... Are you fucking making this about you?" Marilyn said, fury rising in his voice. 

"Brian, fucking stop it. What's wrong?" Trent asked, worry rising in his throat again. 

Marilyn had been set off, and he shoved Trent. 

"Are you fucking serious?" Trent scoffed, "I'm just trying to figure out what's wrong!" 

"Well, fuck off then." Marilyn smirked angrily, and pushed Trent again. 

"Cut it the fuck out!" Trent yelled, catching Marilyn's wrists in his hands. 

Marilyn began to attempt to struggle against Trent's grip, and somehow the smaller man managed to shove Marilyn through the door opening. Trent braced his heel on wall, giving Marilyn an impassioned shove, knocking him roughly onto the bed. Trent straddled his stomach, pinning Marilyn's wrists. 

"Brian, please, just tell me what's wrong." Trent whispered, finally his statement coming out as softly as he'd intended. 

Marilyn stared defiantly at Trent, then suddenly burst into tears. Trent's reaction was impulsive, but at least it wasn't unkind. He cupped Marilyn's face, lying next to him, kissing his cheek, his nose, his lipstick smeared lips, combing sweat streaked black hair out of his face with his hands. 

"Darling, please just tell me what's wrong." Trent whispered as Marilyn's body shook next to him like origami paper. 

"I-I want it like this." Marilyn whispered. 

"What do you mean?" Trent asked, laying a hand on Marilyn's shoulder gently. 

"You, and me, together." He reached up to wipe his eyes. 

"Well, if you'd stop ignoring me, you'd have that, wouldn't you?" Trent said softly. 

"We'll cross the threshold, and you will grow to hate me." Marilyn said stiffly. 

Trent stared down at Marilyn's face, strong dark eyes, high cheekbones, pretty mouth. Slowly, a smile came across his face. 

"I don't think I could ever grow to hate you. Anyway, what's the phrase? Better had love and lost it then never loved at all." Trent shrugged, then propped himself up on his elbow. 

"Yeah." Marilyn sniffed, then his eyebrows furrowed, "Are you saying you love me?" 

"I love you." Trent whispered, the statement hanging in the dark like a little spider on a web, "You're my best friend, of course I do." 

"I love you too." Marilyn whispered back, "I like the way that sounds." 

They looked into each other's eyes wordlessly for what seemed like forever, locked together in passion. Trent could swear Marilyn blinked only once. 

"This is nice. I could do this." Marilyn said, cupping Trent's cheek in his hand. 

"Kiss me." Trent said roughly. 

Marilyn did. Cherry lips worked roughly against Trent's own, tongue slipping inside his mouth. Marilyn slipped his hand behind Trent's head, into his hair, and Trent could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. He liked being this close to Marilyn, and he thought it was nice, too. Trent wrapped his arms around Marilyn's back, his lips slipping off the other man's. He buried his nose in Marilyn's shoulder and signed a little bit. Marilyn wrapped his arms around Trent, squeezing the smaller man close in his arms. 

"I could do this, too." Trent spoke. 

"Let's do this, then." Marilyn kissed the top of Trent's head. 

"I'm okay with that." Trent smiled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love me some drama. I'm letting these boys off easy


	7. if you want, I can take you on another kind of ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've got pretty hands- How was your nap?" Marilyn inquired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's here and it's gay

Silence had become alright now for Trent and Marilyn. Since Marilyn had dived into the recording and work on Antichrist Superstar, a lot of their communication had become through small touches and meaningful eye contact in the studio. The other day, Trent had passed the bass to Marilyn and slid his fingers sweetly over his wrist when he let go of the heavy instrument to place it into Marilyn's hands.

Two weeks of hard, heavy work on Antichrist Superstar passed, somehow without any fighting of any serious degree. Pogo had set Trent off one time, causing him to storm out, coming back drunk as a skunk one hour later, but otherwise there was nothing past an occasional, quickly resolved argument. This was new, and the Manson band members were surprised by the cohesion between their singer and Trent, who usually engaged in knockdown, drag-out fights at least one time a week. Usually these fights were resolved by sharing of drugs, and conclusions reached easily by civil discourse after the two had cooled down.

This day, Marilyn was hunched over in the studio, staring at the computer, his chin resting on his hand. The rest of the band had long since gone home, and Trent was in the studio building somewhere. Given that Trent hadn't slept for 48 hours because he'd been helping Marilyn select samples, then helping out with band promotion matters, Marilyn assumed he was probably taking a well deserved nap. Rubbing his eyes, Marilyn figured he'd been pushed pretty far and was probably in need of a nap as well. Sighing, he put his head down on the table, not intending to fall asleep, but simply intending to rest his eyes.

Marilyn woke up to the feeling of lithe hands squeezing his shoulders, gently massaging away his tiredness.

"Trent?" He asked blearily, sitting up slowly.

"Hi." Trent's voice penetrated Marilyn's bleary mind.

"Hey." Marilyn leaned his head back, letting it fall against Trent's chest.

"I took a nap." Trent said, as Marilyn picked up his hand from his shoulder, turning it over in his larger ones.

"You've got pretty hands- How was your nap?" Marilyn inquired.

"Was okay... Oh!" Trent called out softly as Marilyn slipped his tongue over Trent's fingers, the warm muscle tickling him.

"Better now huh?" Marilyn purred, slipping lips that were for once not painted over Trent's pointer and middle fingers.

"The girl I lost my virginity to was the last person to do that..." Trent whined out as Marilyn drew his nails up Trent's forearm.

"The girl I lost mine to wore more lipstick than I do now." Marilyn mumbled into Trent's pale hand, turning to look up at him.

"Tell me about how you lost your virginity." Trent spoke sweetly, circling in front of Marilyn and sitting down in his lap.

"Oh, well... she was kind of goth, dark hair; but greenish eyes. A smirk rested on her lips all the time. She was about, 5' 7"? 5' 8"? A lot like you, now that I think about it." Marilyn wrapped his arms around Trent's waist, pulling him close to his chest, Trent's comparatively little body full of heat, his heart beating fast against Marilyn's forearm.

"What did you do?" Trent whispered, quite breathless.

"Why are you so turned on? That desperate, huh..." Marilyn added the second part as an afterthought, and Trent whined in mock despair.

"Just tell me, Brian." Trent rolled his eyes, "Or I'll bite you."

"God, fine." Marilyn ruffled Trent's hair condescendingly, "I pulled her in my lap one night when we were sitting on my bed," Marilyn turned Trent around on his lap so the smaller man was straddling him, facing him, "And I kissed her like this."

Marilyn cupped Trent's face and pressed their lips together very gently, "I was a pretty nice boy."

"Was. That's the keyword." Trent giggled, and Marilyn cracked a half smile.

"I was for the first 3 minutes of kissing her, then I put my hands up her shirt." Marilyn smirked in proud rememberance.

Trent felt a large hand slipping under the flimsy fabric of his tank top, and his breath hitched as he stared directly into Marilyn's dark eyes.

"Did you feel her tits?" Trent whispered.

"Like this." Marilyn cupped Trent's chest, squeezing him there as best as he could.

Trent let out a little whine and his chin dropped to his chest. Marilyn traced his thumb around Trent's nipple, teasing the sensitive flesh.

"She liked this, just like you." Marilyn smirked, then pinched Trent there.

Trent let out a soft whine, his head jerking up and his other hand tightening into a fist.

Marilyn got a filthy idea, and maybe this wasn't a good way to fuck Trent for the first time, but he went for it anyway, "You're such a good girl." He purred.

Trent whined out, bucking up against Marilyn, who found himself relieved with the effect of his words.

"Am I?" Trent squealed out.

"Even better than she was. Prettier too." Marilyn whispered, pinching Trent's nipple harder.

It was making Trent's eyes widen and his mouth open dumbly. Marilyn reached down to Trent's thigh, rubbing him there affectionately, drawing a feminine squeal out from the pent-up singer. Marilyn slid his hand up slowly, cupping Trent's cock, cruelly squeezing him there, then lifting off his hand. The vapid look on Trent's face was surprising but also exhilarating; the sudden and somehow girlish inability to speak anything of meaning making Marilyn aroused beyond belief. The idea of Trent being his pretty little plaything unable to refuse... but Marilyn was getting ahead of himself.

"I kind of went straight for it, you know, with her." Marilyn said matter-of-factly, reaching down again to unzip Trent's jeans.

Trent whined when Marilyn placed his hand on his crotch again; this time, feeling the heat rising up from the smaller man. He pushed his hand into Trent's bulge, drawing a soft whine from Trent, who leaned his head back onto Marilyn's shoulder. Wordlessly, Marilyn reached down with both hands to pull Trent's pants down his thighs, pushing them past his knees, letting them fall around his ankles. Marilyn spread his own legs a little, hand now back on Trent's cock, Trent still perched on his lap.

"I, um..." Marilyn smirked, slipping his hand off Trent's cock and down the back of his boxers, squeezing his ass, "I fingered her... 'till she screamed."

Trent opened his mouth as if to say something, but was cut off by the feeling of Marilyn's finger rubbing against his entrance. He sighed out softly under his breath, "Fuck, Brian..."

"I asked her if she was ready, and..." Marilyn stilled his hand, pressing his finger against Trent's hole, "Are you ready?"

"Y-yes... yes." Trent hissed, grinding down on Marilyn's hand slightly.

Marilyn pushed the tip of his finger inside Trent, who shivered in response.

"More." Trent intended to demand but whined out instead.

Marilyn laid his hand on Trent's stomach to hold him in place, slipping his finger all the way inside him. He kissed the side of Trent's neck, then crooked his finger up inside him, drawing out a gasp.

"I'll make you scream." Marilyn hissed, pressing the tip of his second finger against Trent's entrance.

Trent sighed, pushing down onto Marilyn's fingers again, and Marilyn slipped the second finger up inside Trent with only slight resistance. He massaged against Trent's sweetspot, the man's hands locked on the sides of Marilyn's thighs, as he let out tense breaths interspersed with whines.

"Relax, baby." Marilyn spoke playfully, pressing against his spot particularly hard, causing Trent to moan out carnally, sliding out of his position in Marilyn's lap, making the taller man catch him by wrapping an arm around his midriff.

"Jesus, Reznor." Marilyn grunted out, Trent perched awkwardly, most of his weight leaning against Marilyn's arm now.

"Fill me up." Trent spoke out, softly.

"Sorry, what?" Marilyn said, grinning, "You're going to have to say it louder baby.

"I want you to fuck me." Trent spoke, shaking a little under Marilyn's touch.

"Mm, aren't my fingers enough?" Marilyn smirked, though Trent couldn't see them.

"N-no!" Trent whined out, "Fuck, Brian, I want you in me."

"Okay, okay, princess." Marilyn grinned, pulling his fingers out of Trent abruptly, causing him to cry out in his newfound emptiness.

Marilyn lifted up Trent like a rag doll, putting him down on his stomach on the table. Trent's feet were rooted on the ground, and his silky black hair was mussed everywhere.

"When I fucked her," Marilyn spoke, grabbing Trent's boxers and pulling them down his legs, "I wasn't very gentle, but at least I made her cum."

Marilyn stood behind Trent, feeling the heat of his thighs pressing against his own fabric encased ones, grinding up against the perfect, porcelain skin of his ass. Marilyn slowly reached down to unzip his own pants, freeing his aching erection from its confines to some degree. Sighing, he cupped himself through his underwear, then pulled said underwear down his narrow hips, releasing his cock into the air. Trent was so open and ready in front of him, ready to be used; Marilyn licked his lips in anticipation, then pushed the head of his cock against Trent's hole teasingly. Trent whined out in response, and Marilyn could see his gently curved back tensing. He pressed the head of his cock inside of Trent's wet warmth, drawing out another carnal sound from the singer.

Trent dug his fingers into the table, his nails cutting little half moons into the soft overlayed wood surface.

"Brian." Trent said uncharacteristically softly, "I want you so fucking bad."

"Want you too. Every inch of you." Marilyn sighed out, at this point just as overwhelmed as Trent, the heat of his insides beckoning to his half-inserted cock.

"Take me, I'm yours." Trent spoke, honestly and bluntly.

"Fuck." Marilyn hissed out, deeply under his breath.

He pushed in, and he didn't regret it; the feeling of Trent's tightness wrapped around his cock was heavenly. He wrapped one hand around Trent's sleek, dark hair, pulling his head back, causing his neck to arch into a beautiful curve. Trent's mouth fell open, pink and quiet, shocked into silence. His rosy lips seemed to positively glow with warmth. Marilyn pushed Trent's shirt up his back, seeing his muscle tense as he thrusted out, then in again, this time causing a high, breathy moan from Trent.

"Been waiting... for this..." Trent grunted out between moans and sighs, his upper arms shaking, the muscles tight, "For so long."

"I know." Marilyn let out a deep sigh, then continued, "I have too."

Trent shoved himself back onto Marilyn, who had freed his hair, hands now planted on Trent's pale hips. He thrusted harder, and faster, and Trent's voice began to crack when he moaned.

"Harder..." Trent sighed, and Marilyn shoved the body under him down against the table, pushing Trent's cheek against the wood, his tensed arms pushed out from under him.

Trent's entire body was spread lose across the table, underneath Marilyn's strong grasp.

"I'm..." Trent's voice faded out, and his hole tensed on Marilyn's cock, as he blew his load under himself on the table.

The singer collapsed from his tenseness, tiredly on the table, just as Marilyn lost it, too; the sudden tightness had gotten to him. Sighing out, he pulled out of Trent's hole, swallowing a tired almost-arousal reaction as a droplet of cum dripped from Trent's inside and down the back of his soft, milky-white thigh.

"That..." Trent sighed, "Was the fastest... I've ever..."

There was silence, and Trent worried it was judgemental, then he heard a soft laugh.

Marilyn was giggling, sweetly, in the way Trent had only heard once, when an embarrassed Brian Hugh Warner interviewed him for the school paper. The sound was like bells, and Trent thought that he didn't hear that genuine laugh coming from a place of happiness enough. Trent realized, he was happy right now, and as Marilyn lifted him up into his arms gently, both of them still in states of undress, now smiling, Brian was happy, too. The room was cold, the ground was hard, but Marilyn, or Brian, both, was warm, and his heart was beating against Trent.

_I think I'm in love._


	8. always used to wake up sore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're beautiful..." Marilyn spoke, cupping Trent's face, looking into his eyes, "Want to give you roses."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trent needs love js

It was odd that the two of them fell asleep, but that's what Trent and Marilyn did; no staying awake and driving home. Instead, Marilyn's arms were wrapped around Trent, and Trent was curled up on top of the desk, Marilyn curled around him, his face buried in Trent's hair. Trent smelled like unisex shampoo and tequila, a smell that Marilyn hoped he could get to know more intimately. 

Trent enjoyed the feeling of waking up with Marilyn's arm around his chest, the warmth of his body wrapped around his own. He felt distinctly safe for the first time since he was maybe 12. Everyone had left Trent before he could figure out what to say to them, but here he was; wrapped in Marilyn's arms like something precious. Still warm from being fucked like something beautiful, Trent decided he enjoyed the feeling of being loved by Marilyn's hands. Slowly, he ran a finger over the table, finding the places where his own nails had dug into the wood. 

The feeling of Trent's upper arm tensing slightly awoke Marilyn, who adjusted his face from buried in Trent's dark hair to resting atop his cheek. He placed a hand wordlessly over Trent's, squeezing the smaller hand inside his bigger one. Trent waited with bated breath for Marilyn to ask him how he'd slept, or ask a worried question about how he enjoyed the sex, but the other man didn't. Instead, fingers travelled lovingly up the inside of his forearm, up to his shoulder, to his cheek, and Marilyn tipped Trent's face to the side, softly locking lips with him. 

_He doesn't need to ask me, because we're lovers._ Trent realized, _he doesn't need to ask me because he knows that it's okay._

That made Trent feel warm inside and he kissed Marilyn back, softly nipping the bigger man's bottom lip, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Trent sighed out and turned around in Marilyn's arms, kissing his lips sweetly, the warmth traveling between them making both of them feel at home. 

"You're beautiful..." Marilyn spoke, cupping Trent's face, looking into his eyes, "Want to give you roses." 

Trent raised an eyebrow in an "Oh?" 

Marilyn nodded, tracing a finger around Trent's lips, "I want to put them here..." 

Trent whined a little, and Marilyn's hand was on his ass, slipping into his pants, fingers tracing his sore entrance gently, "And here..." Marilyn continued. 

"God, Brian." Trent hissed, trying to squirm away because his body's natural reaction to being touched like that was to get all hard again, and he'd just woken up, as well as being very sore there. 

"Don't squirm..." Marilyn kissed Trent's lips wetly, teasing the tip of his finger against Trent's tender hole, feeling Trent get hard against him,"You'd be so beautiful adorned with roses... they're the only thing near as beautiful as you." 

Trent whined, burying his face in Marilyn's shoulder, and Marilyn slipped a finger inside of Trent's sore warmth, pressing inside immediately against the spot he'd found yesterday. Trent jerked forward, his body rubbing against Marilyn's; Marilyn's hand controlling him completely, his body completely given to the man he loved so much. 

"I'd like to see a rose in your cock..." Marilyn whispered filthily, and Trent sighed, pushing down on Marilyn's finger, letting him begin to slip another finger inside him. 

"Don't you talk?" Marilyn inquired, and Trent let out a tired little whine. 

Trent squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Marilyn's concept; him filled up with roses. He wondered dimly how long Marilyn had thought of that, then he was losing it, his hole filled with Marilyn's long guitarist-like fingers, and he was cumming, and it was in his pants, and he didn't feel bad, he simply felt loved and so very sore. 

"I do talk..." Trent whispered softly, clutching Marilyn's body close to him, childishly burying his face in Marilyn's chest. 

"Good." Came Marilyn's deeper voice, and the feeling of his arms wrapping around Trent's back was relieving and so wonderful. 

"I love you." Trent held his breath, risking it. 

"Mm..." Marilyn responded warmly, fingers burying in Trent's hair. 

"I said, I love you." Trent said again, his heart beating too fast; couldn't Marilyn feel that? 

"Yeah... Love you too." Marilyn said, fingers continuing to play with Trent's hair.

Marilyn's hands were always moving on Trent's body. Trent felt loved by his hands, and he hoped it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've planned out my chapter titles so I can just casually make them all cure refs


	9. and prays to hear him say I love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a n g s t, kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more cure titles and more.... mmmmmm DEPRESSION

"I love you." Trent said under his breath one day as he and Marilyn walked out of the studio. 

"What?" Marilyn asked, "What did you say?" 

"N-nothing." Trent twisted the hem of his shirt in his hand. 

"Okay." Marilyn said, and quiet dropped between the two men. 

After a few minutes of silence, Trent sat down in the long hallway, leaning his head back against the wall. Marilyn stopped walking, putting his hands on his hips and looking concernedly down at Trent. 

"Sit down next to me." Trent said, patting the ground next to him. 

"What's wrong love?" Marilyn asked gently. 

"Just sit next to me." Trent sighed. 

"O-okay." Marilyn sat down slowly, his long legs folding then unfolding as he finally found himself resting with his back against the wall and his knees pointing up with his hands resting on them.

"I said, I love you." Trent said quietly with a brutal intonation, implying that he didn't desire response, "What do you think about that?" 

"I... Love you too?" Marilyn said, eyebrows furrowed, "Didn't you know?" 

"Why didn't you respond to me the first time?" Trent inquired quietly. 

"The last person I told I loved broke my heart." Marilyn said softly.

"And I won't. Don't give me a sob story, when people are hesitant about expressing their love, they can be hesitant about giving it."

"I love you, idiot." Marilyn sighed, "Okay, I love you. I love you very much. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"This sounds like a stale and theatrical conversation." Trent sighed, "One where we're supposed to understand each other better after, or something painfully gay like that."

"You're getting on my last nerve, Reznor." Marilyn leaned forward and pressed and gentle kiss to Trent's mouth, "Forget it, okay? I do love you, really."

"Who broke your heart?" Trent asked.

Marilyn ignored the question, "I just don't want it to happen again."

"Don't leave me and I won't fuck you up." Trent spoke, "Okay?"

"I want you to fuck me up." Marilyn grinned.

"You know full well that wasn't what I was referring to, Brian." Trent sighed, "God, you're insufferable. Let's go for drinks."

Trent's little hand slid into Marilyn's, their fingers intertwining. Marilyn smiled to himself, despite the words unsaid between the two men. Walking as a union, both of them knew that there were so many things to say, so many aspects of their pasts to divulge. Marilyn supposed it was okay to remain on the continuum between friends and lovers a little bit longer. Things would go their own way, and both of them would find out more about each other. There would be more hours to lie together and memorize each other's minds; more time to truly know love.

_I want you to fuck me up._ Marilyn had meant it as a double entendre. _Please pull me along, even if I have to lose you at the end. I would rather hold you close forever and never lose you and never look upon someone else, but if I did lose you, a few days of love would make it forever worthwhile._


	10. you're so gorgeous, I'd do anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trent is a complete tease in the studio, and Marilyn does something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi? I'm so happy today, I'm in a better mood than I've been in in a long time, and I just. want to thank you guys for supporting my writing, it means so much to me, and I wanted everyone who's put up with and read this story so much to know I love them.

"What're you looking at me like that for?" Trent smirked at Marilyn, whose dark eyes managed to repeatedly glance past the side of the computer to make contact with Trent's. 

Marilyn looked nervously at Pogo, who was sitting next to him, though not paying the closest attention, and then looked back at Trent in a reprimanding way. 

"I'm not looking at you like anything, Reznor." Marilyn spoke, his tone too measured. 

"Okay." Trent smirked, and Marilyn's drawn on eyebrows furrowed together in the way that Trent just thought was so cute. 

Trent was discovering the fun of teasing Marilyn a little, just a little, though. He didn't want the other man to take it too seriously, or feel bad for real. What he really wanted... Well, even thinking about it was filthy, it made him snort with laughter like a boy stealing from a candy store. 

"Trent, tell me what you think of this." Marilyn spoke, interrupting his thought process, holding the headphones up, eyes looking imploring upon Trent. 

"Okay." Trent spoke, standing up from his seat and going to lean on his elbows to listen to what Marilyn had recorded. 

He listen for a few minutes, tapping his fingers on the table, then said "I think the drums are a bit loud, don't you think?" 

"Yeah, I thought so too, I just wanted to see whether you noticed, 'cause, well, you're less biased than you'd be if you were in my band." Marilyn started to turn down the drum track. 

"I'm very biased." Trent smirked. 

'Stop it!' Marilyn mouthed silently, then returned Trent's malevolent grin. 

"You know I can't." Trent whispered, then walked around to the other side of Marilyn speaking more loudly to Pogo, "Do think it would be better to loop the primary riff after to create uniformity, or can you play it like that?" 

Pogo began to explain to Trent that he preferred to use the loop pedal for certain things, and freestyle others, but Marilyn zoned out what his band mate was saying. Trent was really a tease, and a good looking tease, too. Marilyn bit his lip, thinking to himself that Trent's figure was nice; his shoulders were broad, and his hips were curved a little, like a violin. Marilyn wanted to slam him down right now, even though Trent had only been teasing a little. 

"Oh fuck." Trent said. 

His bracelet had fallen off of his wrist. Stealing a glance at Marilyn, the traces of a smirk on his lips and a knowing look in his eyes, Trent leaned down slowly to pick up the bracelet from the ground. Marilyn felt his stomach jolt, as he looked exactly where Trent knew he would from that teasing arch of his left eyebrow; daring Marilyn to look, and daring him to react later. Marilyn stared at Trent's ass, as the singer made no effort to pick up the beaded bracelet from the floor quickly. Trent's jeans were black, tight, and high waisted, and left nearly nothing to the imagination at this angle. The bottom of his sweater had come up a little to reveal a strip of pale white soft skin, and just as fast as Marilyn had drunk in the beautiful sight Trent had presented him with, Trent stood up again, pulling his sweater back down. 

Marilyn focused his attention, visually at least, on editing the sound levels for the most recent song. His mind wandered to Trent repeatedly, and each time he reminded himself that the more work he got done, the sooner lunch would be, and the sooner he could detain Trent from going out to lunch with the rest of Marilyn's band. 

After some time, Trent looked at his watch, "Guys, it's 12:45, if you want to get food, that's fine. I'm fucking starving." 

"God, thank you." Daisy said in an incredibly dramatic way, and everyone in Marilyn's band began to stand up from where they were seated, chattering about whether they should go to Burger King or McDonald's, with Pogo's indignant insistance that they should just get pre-boiled eggs and fruit at the grocery store juxtaposed. 

Trent started to make his way to the rest of the group, and Marilyn stood up quickly from his chair, putting a hand on Trent's shoulder to still him. 

"Wait, Trent." He said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "I have an important question about some stuff to do wry my vocals, the rest of you can go get food, don't worry." 

"I'm fucking hungry, Brian." Trent said slowly, his eyes betraying a glitter of humor. 

"I have my own lunch, I'll give you it if you want, and besides, it won't be long. You'll still have plenty of time to go out and buy yourself food." Marilyn looked at Trent strongly, trying to give him the feeling that there wasn't a choice. 

"Okay." Trent said, and the rest of the Manson band began to make their way out. 

"Alright." Marilyn walked over to the door, shutting it, locking it, and speaking, "What's going on with your little displays, huh?" 

Marilyn turned around and his breath caught in his throat. Trent was sitting on the table, his sweater thrown aside already. So he hadn't imagined anything, that was for sure. 

"Just thought that I'd... Tease you." Trent began to reach down to take off his pants, but Marilyn caught his wrists in his hands. 

"Not so fast, Reznor." Marilyn smirked, "I know that you think I'm going to get revenge by fucking you, but I have some other plans." 

"Oh?" Trent looked at Marilyn, lust in his eyes. 

"Stand up." Marilyn spoke, and Trent obliged and got off the table, "Now, you're going to take off your belt." 

Trent unbuckled his belt and handed it to Marilyn, "What are you going to do with it, Marilyn?" 

"You're going to pull your pants down, you're going to pull down your boxers, or maybe panties..." Marilyn smirked, curling his lip at Trent, who was actually blushing now, "And you're going to lie down over the table on your stomach for me. If you want to show off your ass to me and tease me, you can do it this way." 

Trent gulped, excessively turned on. He unzipped his pants and pulled them down to knees, then pulled down his boxers after. His hard cock sprung out, and he blushed immediately, his arousal increasing in knowing that Marilyn knew how turned on he was. 

"I told you to get over the table, didn't I?" Marilyn inquired. 

"Y-yes." Trent turned around and leaned over the table on his stomach, his ass pointing at Marilyn, only this time, Trent was at Marilyn's mercy. 

"Now, you're going to find out what happens to it when you tease me with that ass of yours." Marilyn spoke measuredly, folding the belt over itself. 

There was a moment of a silence excepting Trent's heavy breathing, and the sound of the belt's buckle clinking against itself as Marilyn pulled the belt back. In a flash, the belt made contact with Trent's ass. 

Trent cried out, grabbing the edge of the table hard, threatening to upset the whole thing, despite its size and weight. Nearly everything on the table jumped. 

"So fucking pathetic." Marilyn pulled the belt back and hit Trent again, drawing out another loud whine, and creating another pink mark on pearl white skin. 

"God, Marilyn." Trent hissed out. 

Marilyn hit Trent with the belt again, harder this time, drawing out a soblike moan, then hit him again, this time the tail end of the belt hitting Trent's thigh, causing him to whine. 

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, more." Trent hissed out, his breathing heavy, the marks on his skin beginning to darken, red droplets of blood coming up in several places. 

"Oh, you like that?" Marilyn grinned, roughly grabbing Trent's ass, droplets of blood coming off on his hand. 

Trent whined, the feeling of Marilyn's fingers digging into the sensitive, painful injuries he'd induced feeling so ridiculously good to him. 

"Yeah, I fucking love the pain." Trent sighed out, feeling Marilyn knead his flesh, the tips of his nails digging into the sensitive areas. 

Suddenly, there was a sound of someone trying to turn the door's handle, and the locked door refusing to open. 

"Let us in, assholes." Came Daisy's muffled voice from outside.

"Oh god, fucking Daisy." Trent whispered under his breath, scrambling off the table, pulling his pants up, zipping them and buttoning them, wincing as they rubbed against his newly created wounds. 

"Fuck. Why?" Marilyn hissed, picking up Trent's sweater and helping the singer into it, "I'm coming, one sec!" He shouted at the door, giving Trent his belt, looking at him very apologetically. 

"Wait." Trent whispered, reaching up to put his hand on Marilyn's shoulder to stop him, like Marilyn had done earlier. 

"What!" Marilyn hissed panickedly. 

Trent stood up on his toes and kissed Marilyn's cheek softly, "Just love you is all." 

"Open UP, assholes!" Pogo yelled. 

Brian Hugh Warner had not blushed the way he did as he ran to open the door since he was in middle school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry bout the cock block, makes it more entertaining. I'm the sadistic partner in my relationship, can you tell by the way I torture my readers


	11. happy birthday I’m forever yours, blossom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Trent’s birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey xx I remade wattpad and it’s @trent_in_a_tree (like here but there are no caps) so I’d appreciate if y’all followed me there! I’ll probably post eventually

Silver and gold streaks of sun shone across Trent's sleeping face through the partly opened blinds. Marilyn leaned on the doorframe, looking down at Trent while he slept, Marilyn’s arms holding a box. He bit his lip nervously, wondering if it was too early to wake Trent up. Just as Marilyn began to turn on his heel, ready to leave and come back later, Trent stirred, the sunlight flickering through his dark eyelashes as his eyes opened blearily, hands clutching at the blanket sweetly and gently, as he looked up directly at Marilyn's face.

"Brian?" Trent spoke softly and blearily.

Marilyn's heart fluttered; the tinge of xylophone-note sweetness present in Trent's voice left him feeling extravagant roses blooming inside of his chest, wrapping their stems so gently.

"Trent." He responded, the gentle smile making its way across his face hopefully revealing his love to Trent; beautiful even in his just woken state. 

Trent's green-brown eyes outshone the silver streaks of sunlight upon his skin and hair, and Marilyn thought this was kind of a miracle. When he was a little boy, still in that awful Christian boarding school, he would awake before sunrise, and watch the sun go up by watching the silver streaks shine through the blinds' openings, casting onto the wall in twisted projections. Every morning, Marilyn enjoyed it, genuinely. This was the first time he'd seen something he found to be more beautiful.

"You look gorgeous." Marilyn said, looking at Trent, and the smaller man smiled tiredly in response, blush rising in his cheeks as he pulled himself up into a sitting position in the bed.

"C'mere." Trent spoke, patting the space on the bed next to him.

"Okay." Marilyn walked over, sitting down on the bed next to Trent.

"No, idiot, get under the blanket." Trent pushed Marilyn's hip with his hand, making him stand up, then lifted the blanket up.

Marilyn sighed and smiled, then sat down on the bed, leaning over to press a kiss to Trent's forehead. 

“What’s in the box?” Trent inquired, and a grin spread across Marilyn’s face. 

“Just something for your birthday.” Marilyn smiled at Trent, whose eyes widened, his cheeks filling with pink tones immediately. 

“I didn’t know you knew-“ Trent began and Marilyn pressed a finger to his lips. 

“Shush, Trent.” Marilyn jokingly said in a motherly way, then added softly, “I’ve had it marked on my calendar since you told me.”

“Oh...” Trent trailed off, lips curving gently into a smile. 

“C’mon why would I not get you something?” Marilyn smiled, “It’s not a big deal present, or anything.” 

“It’s okay, it’s from you, and I love you.” Trent looked at Marilyn, his eyes soft. 

Marilyn felt his heart jerk in his chest and spoke with ease this time, “I love you too.” 

Trent picked up Marilyn’s larger hand in his, pressing gentle kisses to the tip of each finger, then briefly pressed Marilyn’s hand against the warmth of his chest. He blinked slowly, then freed Marilyn’s hand with gentleness. 

“It’s a cake.” Marilyn spoke, opening the top of the box, and tipping it towards Trent so he could see, “I, um, made it and frosted it.” 

The cake’s top was frosted with a red frame with a white rectangle in the center, marked with the delicately printed words “Happy birthday, beloved” then underneath, smaller text. 

“This is so pretty!” Trent smiled bashfully at Marilyn, then eagerly hoisted himself up to read the bottom text, “Oh my god, what does that say?” 

“I really did write that, didn’t I?” Marilyn said mournfully. 

“It really is nine inches.” Trent read off of the cake, and let out a snort. 

He began laughing uncontrollably, and let his head rest on Marilyn’s shoulder. The other man started to lose his cool, too, and it took quite a while for the two of them to contain themselves. 

“I thought...” Trent gasped between laughs, “That Trent Jr. wasn’t.... Quite 9 inches.” 

“Close enough.” Marilyn smirked and then leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Trent’s welcoming rosy mouth.

“You’re a sweetheart, in your weird way.” Trent smiled at Marilyn, then softly added, “I love the cake.” 

“Thanks babe, wanna eat it?” Marilyn grinned. 

“Only if I get to eat you after.” Trent smirked and winked at Marilyn. 

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be done by trent’s Actual Birthday but that didn’t fuckinh happen ok   
> also more cure titles, and I think if I’ve calculated correctly this chapter should mark the passing of 10,000 words in this fic. good, good.   
> hope you enjoyed as usual


	12. you’re just like a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their lips melted together like wax spreading across a metal candle holder, Brian felt the harsh tug of love pulling on the strings of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will probablt be about 20 chapters in this fic just a heads up, hope y’all are still enjoying it. don’t be afraid to drop a comment!

"Come here." Trent said, looking up from the computer.

"Did I do something?" Marilyn replied hesitantly.

"No, of course not, just come here." Trent pushed the chair back, standing up from it slowly.

The studio was mostly empty and the rest of the band had gone home. Marilyn and Trent were the only ones left. The room was darkening; the hallway lights had been turned off several hours ago. They always turned off at 11 at night. Marilyn stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in in front of the keyboard in. He walked over to Trent, standing in front of him. He leaned down so their eyes would make contact; sometimes Marilyn hated being so much taller than Trent. It made Trent cute to manhandle and fuck, but made it nearly impossible to look him directly in the pretty eyes when he was standing.

"I'm proud of you, you know." Trent said softly, pulling Marilyn close into a hug, resting his face on the taller man's shoulder.

"Why?"

"I met a shy, awkward kid who didn't know that his music was any good, and now I'm holding a tall, handsome man about to wreck the world with the best industrial metal album in history." Trent leaned his head back, smiling at Marilyn with genuine warmth in his face.

"I'm not handsome-" Marilyn started and Trent stood up on his toes, softly planting a kiss on Marilyn's lips.

"You don't look how people expect a handsome man to look, but you are." Trent hugged Marilyn tightly.

Marilyn felt like he was going to cry. He buried his nose in the top of Trent's soft, dark hair. Never had anyone he'd been with said something so sweet to him, with such truth and conviction. He always felt like people tolerated his looks for his intelligence or talent, but not Trent. 

"I like your eyes. I think they're warm. And your brow is strong, and your lips look soft, and they are soft. And your jaw is angular and so are your cheeks, and your nose is strong and when I kiss it you squinch your face up like a little cat-" Trent trailed off, and bit his lip, blushing deeply, "Sorry."

"No, it's okay." Marilyn hugged Trent tightly again, rubbing one large hand on his back, "I think it's sweet. I think you're sweet."

"I love you." Trent said it hesitantly, and Marilyn hated himself for putting Trent in the position where he wasn't sure Marilyn would say it back.

"I love you too." Marilyn said assuredly, kissing Trent on the cheek.

"I'm ready for bed." Trent said softly.

"Let's go home-"

"I don't want to leave you." Trent said, his voice weighted with intensity showing he meant the statement in a deeper way.

"-together." Marilyn smiled, his eyes uncharacteristically gentle.

"Take me to your place." Trent sighed, burying his face in Marilyn's chest, "Take me home with you."

"Come home with me, then, baby." Trent had become soft and pliable and Marilyn pulled his body close, then lifted Trent up into his arms like a bride, suddenly.

Trent gasped when his feet left the ground, and he threw his arms up around Marilyn's neck, hugging him close.

"You're just like heaven." Trent sighed.

"Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick..." Marilyn sang quietly, and Trent blushed.

"The one that makes me laugh, he said," Trent quipped, "And threw his arms around my neck."

Marilyn leaned down and kissed Trent's mouth gently. Layers were being stripped away; toughness, harshness, anger, and sadness. What was left? Love, and truth, and beauty. And there was Trent, warm and comfortable to hold; rough sometimes, but soft in other ways. Marilyn had never felt there to be a light in the darkness like this before. Before, it had always been a trick, and it had always been Marilyn Manson holding a body close to his, but as Brian Warner leaned down again to kiss Trent Reznor's lips softly for the second time in that minute, conscious of the feeling of muscular forearms pulling against the back of his neck, he knew that this was special. Brian, or Marilyn, or whichever part was showing, would never feel love this way again, and he knew it, and he knew that whatever Trent did to him, he'd let it happen, because he'd do anything for Trent. He would do anything Trent asked him to, anything Trent wanted, and anything Trent needed. 

As their lips melted together like wax spreading across a metal candle holder, Brian felt the harsh tug of love pulling on the strings of his heart. It hurt, and it pulled, and it made his stomach jump. It made him feel so strongly that he wouldn't pass it up for anything. His stomach jumped so often with happiness, too. 

“I’ll say it first.” Brian spoke softly, “I love you.” 

“Brian.” Trent whispered, shutting his eyes as Marilyn kissed him sweetly again. 

“Please don’t be afraid.” Brian whispered, “I’m not afraid to tell you I love you anymore.” 

“Good.” Trent’s arms tightened around the back around Brian’s neck. 

They were close to each other, the room was warm, and everything was alright for a moment at least.


	13. you never know how anything will change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marilyn doesn’t want to go on television.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small warning for some anti gay slurs if anyone’s upset by that sort of thing, also, I hope u guys are glad to have me back on this fic. there may be some typos btw it’s kinda late rn

“I don’t want to go on TV.” Marilyn covered his face, massaging his temples. 

“Listen, you’ve done it before. It’s just part of promoting a new album.” Trent said, unintentionally harsh, as he walked across the hotel room the two men were sharing, “I have to go on, too.” 

Trent had gotten a call, addressed to Nothing Records, from the Jerry Springer show. The two men had flown out together, arriving on the request that Trent be there to speak about the controversial choice of the record company to sign Marilyn Manson, destroyer of Christian America, onto his label, and Marilyn himself be there to explain why he was just so damn evil. They didn’t say all those details in the call, but it was clear that it would go down that road. 

“I just... I’m not used to going on big deal TV.” Marilyn slumped his shoulders, looking up at Trent, who felt Marilyn’s eyes on him and turned around. 

Trent immediately felt deeply guilty for being coarse in response to Marilyn, who was regarding him with big, worried eyes, and furrowed, painted eyebrows. 

“Listen, Brian.” Trent said gently, sitting on the bed next to Marilyn, “Think about it as if it were just a small potatoes TV show. A local broadcast.” 

“But it’s not.” Marilyn pointed out. 

“You can lacerate yourself on stage, how is going on TV different?” Trent inquired genuinely. 

“It just is. It’s different to have to talk. People have to like you, instead of just being shocked by how weird you are.” Marilyn shrugged, “I guess.” 

“Yeah...” Trent stared into the distance, his lips squinched as he thought, “I guess that does make sense.” 

“How long before we go on?” Marilyn inquired very quietly. 

“Let’s see.” Trent leaned over Marilyn, grabbing his watch from the bedside table, “We have an hour. You’re dressed, right?” 

“Yeah.” Marilyn sighed out, adjusting his belt nervously, “I’m just going to have to grab my jacket and boa before we go.” 

“Alright, we have time to calm you down then.” Trent smiled gently at Marilyn, who looked up at Trent with a false harshness in his eyes. 

“I’m not a baby.” 

“I know that, honey, but you are upset, and I don’t want you to be upset.” Trent said gruffly, not used to going this far to emotionally support someone. 

Trent’s heart was beating quickly as Marilyn’s dark eyes melted into a state of absolute vulnerability. Trent could practically feel his heart opening up to the other man; he had never torn his emotions open like this for a lover before. It wasn’t that he hadn’t told past lovers things, it was simply the act of being gentle and kind from his heart that was new. Trent took Marilyn’s hands in his, trying to disguise the wonderment he felt as his protective shell shed off. He would give it up to make Marilyn feel comfortable, and safe. He wanted so badly to make the other man feel safe. 

“You seem to be having some sort of emotional orgasm.” Marilyn stated, as Trent rubbed the palms of Marilyn’s large hands gently with his thumbs. 

“Am not.” Trent grunted, “Just feeling genuinely like loving you, is all.” 

“Okay.” Marilyn smiled softly at Trent, who refused to look up immediately. 

Suddenly, Trent wrapped his arms around Marilyn and hugged him tightly. 

“I love you. You make me want to be alive, and you make me want to feel things. You’re going to do great tonight.” Trent mumbled out, trusting Marilyn with his heart. 

“I love you too, Trent.” Marilyn said, softly kissing the top of Trent’s head, the dark strands of hair warm from the hotel room lights shining down on it, making a white halo-shaped reflection glow there. 

They sat like that for a while, and then Trent pulled away and asked, “Are you feeling a little better?” 

“Yeah, I can do it.” Marilyn said, firmly and assertively, and Trent believed it from the confidence in his voice. 

“Good.” Trent smiled, “Let’s go, okay? We don’t want to be late.” 

————  
The questions that were being asked on the show zoomed by for Trent. None of them were particularly intellectual or scintillating. Instead, most questioned the morals of Marilyn’s music, or attempted to dig one of the two men into a hole. Trent was used to this kind of special, argumentative interview that only industrial musicians ever had to put up with in the modern day. He was wholly sick of them, but anything was worth album promotion, which being on TV did wonders for. Trent’s hand sat on his leg, and he watched Marilyn’s painted mouth move as he answered a question. His lips were beautiful, especially when he talked, Trent thought. Marilyn’s voice was deep and it bubbled out from him in the most alluring way from those lips. Trent was jolted from his lovesick admiration when Marilyn finished answering the question. 

“And are you straight? Or gay? What’s going on with your relationships?” Inquired Springer. 

Trent’s stomach clenched. He didn’t want to show how much higher his heart rate had become with that single question. The swell of pride he felt for Marilyn began to swirl, as 1,000 possible answers to the question that Marilyn had been asked surfaced inside his brain. 

“I’m not gay. But I’m up for grabs right now.” Marilyn smirked at the interviewer, not even bothering to shoot a glance at Trent, sitting next to him. 

“Oh.” Trent thought to himself, very sadly, as the beautiful, flowery feeling of pride shredded into a feeling of disgust. 

————

“You were right, Trent. It didn’t go too badly at all!” Marilyn approached Trent backstage, immediately after the interview. 

“Yes, it fucking did.” Trent spat, looking at Marilyn angrily. 

He felt so disgusted and so betrayed. Marilyn didn’t have to go spout the details of their relationship on television, but he completely disregarded Trent, in public. He threw him under the bus entirely, and Trent felt like his heart was cracking. He felt assaulted because of the way he’d just emotionally opened up to Marilyn. He thought he could be safe with the man, but he just had to go and make Trent’s old feelings of self hatred and resentment bubble up in his chest like heartburn. 

“What do you mean?” Marilyn asked, confusedly. 

Trent clenched his fists, “Are you fucking stupid?”

“What the hell, Reznor?” Marilyn threw his hands up. 

“Why did you say that about your relationship status? About me?” Trent’s eyes were filling with horrible, angry tears that were demeaning and unrestrainable. 

“It’s nobody’s business to know about my relationships.” Marilyn scowled at Trent. 

“You’re just fucking embarrassed of me.” Trent reached back to slap Marilyn, who caught his wrist, and leaned down to his face. 

Marilyn’s eyes were filled with stony anger, as he spoke softly and dangerously, “No, I just don’t want everyone to know I’m a fucking faggot like you do.” 

Trent’s mouth opened, and before he could respond, Marilyn spat in Trent’s open mouth. 

“Fuck you, Manson.” Trent said, coldly, as he swallowed. 

“I won’t be, you queer.” Marilyn threw Trent’s raised hand down, and turned away, his coat swirling behind him as he disappeared into the crowd. 

“Fuck.” Mumured Trent, desperately wishing for drugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeeze poor Trent


	14. hold me like you'll never let me go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I feel like a princess." Trent said drunkenly as Marilyn took off his own leather pants and crawled in next to Trent, pulling the sheet up over them.  
> \--  
> Also known as: local man can not get along with his boyfriend, dies inside™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is relatively unedited because I just finished it and it's 5am and you're deluded if you think I've been sleeping 
> 
> **more importantly, this is dedicated to my lovely friend Sam who threatened to sue me if I didn't update this. love you bitcb and hope you like it**
> 
> also small warning for some physical violence. it's not super bad and it's fiction so it shouldn't upset anybody probably but I'm just warning y'all just in case any of my readers are REALLY not cool with anything domestic violence-y in fiction

Trent had been in a bar for 20 minutes now. He had let himself out of the back door of the television building, escaping the party, his boots clicking on the sidewalk as he made his way through the back alley. He’d turned onto the main road, and had firmly chosen a bar with a glowing sign to enter. He had ordered a round of 10 tequila shots and slammed the empty glasses down, one by one, at lightening speed. Now, he sat still, staring at his hands on the faux marble counter. 

Trent could feel the tears coming. He swallowed bluntly, forcing them back down into his throat, desperately avoiding public decompensation. Inhaling sharply, he threw his head back, his vision starting to become hazy from the surplus of tequila. The dimmed lights on the bar ceiling floated like blurry-edged moons, and Trent saw them briefly, then moved his head back into its normal position, the image obliterated. Just like the relationship with Marilyn had been. Only, he wouldn’t remember the little moons on the ceiling tomorrow, but he would wake up with a throbbing heart, and a broken-glass stomach. 

Drunkenly, Trent exited his seat and made his way onto the dance floor. Music was blaring. It was some sort of awful pop, he didn’t know what it was and all his senses were shot, due to his ingestion of alcohol. Someone made his way up to throwing an arm roughly around the drunken man’s shoulders, saying something in his ear. Trent didn’t hear the statement, but desperately melted into the comfort, clutching the man’s suit jacket, burying his face in his warm chest. He peeked past the other man’s embrace, seeing the flicking and gyrating of skirts and suit pants around him, tastes of color shining with flares of light. The man holding him let go after a few minutes, and Trent was absolutely too disoriented to pay attention to much after that. 

He was touched, and he saw things. All his senses blended together like in The Stars, My Destination, except there was no godlike beauty to it, instead there was only horror and deep, penetrating sadness. He limped over to the bar and sat down on the chair, and shut his eyes. He succumbed to the blackness of drunken sleep. 

Trent woke up later, feeling less drunk, but still very much so. He slowly stood up, his head pounding. There were people flocking the dance floor, but different ones from earlier, and the blaring music had become calmer. Trent smoothed his shirt, and drunkenly thought to himself that he needed to fix this. 

He knew it wouldn’t be easy to resolve he and Marilyn’s fight, and that it would take more than one encounter, but his drunkenness made his heart beat recklessly. His hands were practically twitching with uncontrolled desire to make things right again. 

Trent's hand tensed pressing into the counter as he hoisted himself out of his bar stool. His boots made contact with the ground, clacking softly as he righted himself, blinking a few times as his blood slowly flowed back to where it was supposed to be in his body. He slowly made his way across the bar, walking on the side of the dance floor, the lights flashing against his back now. When he came to the door, he pressed it open and walked out onto the street. 

After some wandering and wrong turns, Trent finally made his way back to the hotel. He should have taken a cab, he realized, dimly feeling the pain of the blisters on his feet from the length of time he'd walked in boots meant only for looking pretty. He entered the hotel, nodding with a tight lipped smile at the desk clerk. She eyed him suspiciously, and it was obvious to him that she didn't recognize him at all. It was humbling to be viewed as a useless drunk and nothing else. Trent smiled wryly at the thought as he made his way to the elevator. He pressed the glowing "5" button hard, his finger nearly bending back too far. 

Trent stared straight into the security camera, wondering if people ever fucked in the elevator and what the security guard watching video would do if they did. He realized he'd been staring at the camera too long, and smirked evilly, then flipped it off. The security guard could think about that. The door opened, and Trent walked out fast, as if with a purpose, then stopped immediately. He found himself with his hands wringing the base of his shirt as if he were a middle aged woman doing laundry, as he nervously shook with the ideas of what could happen when he went into Manson's-- his and Manson's-- room. 

He was drunk. He pushed the concerns away and took his hands off the base of his shirt, walking down the hallway instead in long strides, his boots pressing prints into the lush carpet. Soon, he rounded the corner and showed up right in front of the room. Trent didn't even consider using his room key. Instead he raised a tight fist and slammed it against the door fast and hard as a machine gun. Music was playing from inside Marilyn's room, and Trent couldn't hear what it was specifically, but he suspected it was something industrial bases on the sound progression. 

"Fucking open the door, Brian!" Trent bargained on Marilyn having the human decency to know he had nowhere else to sleep. 

The door opened, and Trent dropped his fist. Trent dropped his gaze to a smirking woman with a towel covering her body, held up by a small fist with painted red nails. Her holier than thou facial expression faded away into shock when she saw Trent. Before she could stutter out some sort of garbled admiration for his music, Trent bypassed her and stepped through the door. 

"Brian." Trent walked up the edge of the bed, where Marilyn had clearly just zipped his leather pants from the placement of his hands, and turned his head up to regard Trent with a frustrated gaze. 

"What the fuck do you want?" He spat. 

"I want her out, and I want the Rammstein turned the fuck down because I can't talk like this." Trent sighed, drunkenly sitting down on the side of the bed. 

"I like Rammstein." Protested Marilyn. 

"I fucking do too!" Trent indignantly protested, tears nearly reaching his eyes, "Just get her the fuck out!" 

"Trent-" Marilyn began to speak in the horrible and pejorative tone he hated. 

Trent slapped Marilyn's thigh drunkenly as a not-so-subtle way of saying "shut the fuck up", then stood from the bed, not making eye contact with the girl. He crouched by the bed, picking up her panties, her skirt, and her Manson t-shirt. Wordlessly, his lips stoicly clenched, he walked up to her, shoving it into her arms. She stared desperately up at Marilyn across the room, who had clearly silently come to an agreement with Trent. He refused to meet her eyes. Sighing angrily, she exited the room. Trent slammed the door behind her. 

"Why the fuck do you always have to ruin my fun?" Marilyn now had stood up behind Trent. 

"I never ruin your fun. I'm not a fucking pussy." Trent walked straight to Marilyn and looked him boldly in the eye, swaying drunkly. 

"Just because I don't choose to fucking spill my social life doesn't make me a pussy." Marilyn threw his hands up. 

"And just because I'm proud to be yours doesn't make me a faggot." Trent spat on Marilyn's polished boots, "We're fucking even."

"You're always a fucking diva or a control freak." Marilyn crossed his arms, "Just fucking ruin everything some more." 

Trent drunkenly stumbled forward, shoving Marilyn. 

"You cunt!" Marilyn grabbed Trent's upper arms, shoving him into the wall on the other side, Trent's shoulder slamming roughly through the hotel tv, knocking it off kilter and leaving it teetering on the edge of the table. 

"You fucking klutz, let me go!" Trent snapped indignantly, struggling. 

"Fuck you." Marilyn pulled Trent forward and slammed him into the wall again, but he wouldn't stop struggling. 

Trent kicked Marilyn in the shin, and Marilyn felt a jab of anger go through his stomach. He roughly slammed the little fucker into the wall again, and shoved his knee hard up between Trent's legs, into his cock. 

"Fuck!" Trent screamed out, ceasing to struggle, his knees buckling, as he collapsed against Marilyn's chest, breathing heavily. 

Marilyn expected Trent to keep fighting, but instead the smaller man broke into shallow, torso-wracking sobs that made his body shake. Marilyn immediately felt absolutely awful for manhandling the other man. He had been drunk off his ass... And here he was, so small, his pretty little hands that Marilyn had always loved so much pressing desperately against his skin as he sobbed his eyes out. 

"God, Trent." Marilyn wrapped his arms around the other man, hugging him tightly. 

The crying was sickening him. It made him feel disgusting and dirty for his physical cruelty to Trent, who he did truly love, however annoyed with the diva singer he was. 

"Trent." Marilyn said roughly, but when Trent looked up at him, beautiful green eyes laced with wet tears, he couldn't finish the comment. 

"I'm sorry for ruining your night." Trent said softly, "Please don't make me leave." 

"I won't make you leave." Marilyn said, uncharacteristically gently. 

"I'll fuck you." Trent said, his voice gentle and damaged, his fingers sliding down over Marilyn's shoulders. 

"No, Trent, baby." Marilyn said softly. 

"Please, I'd let you destroy me." Trent's voice was hollow and sad, "Please." 

Marilyn caught Trent by the wrists, "Trent, no." 

"Please." Trent nearly sobbed, and it dawned on Marilyn why he was so sickened. 

"Do you think that it's the only way to get me back baby?" Marilyn asked softly and Trent's big, sad eyes answered him. 

"I need to be desired by you or else I'm a throw out." Trent said and shiver again, his body threatening to shake madly with sobs. 

"Uh, Trent... You're not a throwaway." Marilyn's awkwardness with the emotional state of the other man began to dissapate because he could feel his own chest hurting with how much he loved Trent.

"Am too." Trent spoke muffledly, his face in Marilyn's chest again. 

"We're gonna get you ready for bed." Marilyn said firmly, lifting Trent up bridal style, and carrying him to the bathroom. 

"Please let me fuck you." Trent blathered drunkenly, and Marilyn ignored him, grabbing the base of his shirt, taking it off. 

He wet a paper towel and rubbed all the sweat off Trent, eying the finger shaped bruises on Trent's upper arms and feeling a pang of guilt. He averted his eyes from them and looked at Trent's stomach and chest which moved rapidly as he breathed. Marilyn gently laid a hand on Trent's stomach. 

"Babe, calm down." Marilyn murmured and Trent sighed out in respond to his statement; even through the drunken state, Marilyn's voice commanded him. 

"Brian, please, ruin me." Trent murmured again, his face tipped against his shoulder, his hair wet with sweat. 

"No." Marilyn said firmly, unbuttoning Trent's jeans and throwing them aside. 

Trent's smaller hands clenched on Marilyn's, and attempted to pull them towards his crotch, now that it was exposed. 

"Baby." Marilyn cooed, slapping away Trent's hands, "You're drunk and I have to care for your dumb ass, okay?" 

"You won't love me unless-" Trent began and Marilyn interrupted angrily. 

"Trent, shut the fuck UP, I love you! You're not a cheap fuck! I'm sorry for everything I've done, I'm sorry I hurt you, okay? Now stop fucking talking! I'll fuck you when you're sober." Marilyn leaned down and kiss Trent's cheek, staring into his now-placid green eyes as he pulled away. 

"Okay. Love you as well." Trent mumbled drunkenly, and Marilyn threw his jeans aside. 

He took one look at Trent, and decided that trying to make him shower would fail. Instead he looped his arms around Trent like a bride again and carried him to the bed. 

"I feel like a princess." Trent said drunkenly as Marilyn took off his own leather pants and crawled in next to Trent, pulling the sheet up over them. 

You are one. Marilyn thought. 

He didn't respond because he wanted Trent to go to sleep. He wrapped his arm around Trent's chest, and Trent nuzzled his significantly smaller body against Marilyn's wordlessly. The two men did not sleep in the bed together under most circumstances, but Marilyn kind of liked it and would be in the future getting Trent to do it again. 

"Hey, I love you." Marilyn said, softly. 

"Love you more." Came Trent's soft muffled reply. 

They lay, skin to skin, Trent's head near Marilyn's heart. Trent's breathing slowed and calmed and so did Marilyn's soon after. For now, both men put aside their guilt and fell asleep, safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last upsetting chapter triggered you guys (understandably) so hopefully this was a significant apology for that mess of abuse @ y'all


	15. I’m so glad you came, I’m so glad you remembered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Trent, you’re mine.” Marilyn whispered, desperate to project the only sentiments he knew could make his lover feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, I’m back on my bullshit, and there’s still a cure title! pun intended in the title and apologies for any typos in the body of the chapter, I wrote this half today in study hall then had three coffees at lunch and like........ can’t edit shit rn 
> 
> warning for blood/rough sex/name calling if any of that stuff bothers u

Trent woke up before Marilyn did. He realized that the window had been left open from the night before. Two cigarette butts were sitting on the window sill, the ashes scattered on the white paint. The red curtain was billowing with air. Trent assumed the cigarettes had been the girl’s; Manson hardly smoked, and when he did, he wouldn’t be caught dead putting the cigarettes out on a window sill. Trent watched the red curtain billowing, by wanting to get up to shut the window, feeling very comfortable in Marilyn’s arms. 

Trent felt like a child whose summer break was ending. He felt like Marilyn was going to drift away from him, and he was afraid of the loss. Sighing softly, Trent squirmed over in Marilyn’s grasp, wrapping his arms around the larger man’s chest and shoulders. 

“Hey.” Marilyn said groggily, the movement in his arms waking him up. 

“Hey.” Trent responded softly, pressing his face into Marilyn’s large, sharp shoulder. 

“You’re holding on so tightly.” Marilyn noticed, snaking a hand up to stroke Trent’s hair. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” Trent murmured into Marilyn’s shoulder. 

“Hey, I’m here.” Marilyn said softly. 

“I don’t want to ever lose you.” Trent mumbled. 

“Trent, you’re not going to, okay?” Marilyn whispered, holding the other man tightly. 

“I’m just afraid-“ Trent began, and Marilyn cut him off with a kiss. 

Marilyn’s lips pressed hard to Trent’s, the feeling of the kiss hard as death, and warm as melted chocolate. Big hands fanned out over Trent’s back, and Trent gasped into the embrace. Like a bird’s body, Marilyn could feel Trent’s ribs, one by one, pressing against his large hands. Twisting in the sheets, Marilyn flipped Trent and himself so Trent was lying on his back underneath him. Trent’s eyes were swimming with near-tears and Marilyn leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Trent’s mouth. 

“I’m sorry for being a mess.” Trent said, softly. 

“It’s fine.” Marilyn spoke, kissing his mouth harder this time, just to shut him up. 

Trent whined into the kiss, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his arms up around Marilyn’s neck, pulling him close. Marilyn cupped Trent’s cheek with his hand, then slid one down to Trent’s tensed shoulder, squeezing the muscle. He used the hand on Trent’s back to pull his doll-like body up against him. Marilyn groaned into the kiss, desperately needing to feel Trent close to him. The softness of Trent’s thighs, the flexing muscles in his arms, the warmth of his skin... Marilyn adored it. 

Trent broke the kiss, gasping for breath, his cheeks flushed a pretty color, and tears gone from his glittery green eyes. He smiled up at Marilyn hesitantly. Marilyn returned the shaky grin with a firm one, looping his long fingers in Trent’s dark waves of hair. He stroked the sleek strands with gentleness, his dark eyes glowing in love. 

“I’m hard.” Trent said, red rising in his cheeks as his brow furrowed. 

“Look at me, honey.” Marilyn tried to repress the smile flickering on his lips at Trent’s show of incredibly shyness. 

Trent tipped his face up to look at Marilyn’s, who, seeing the furrowed brow and reddened cheeks head on, couldn’t help his face bursting into a wide grin. 

“I don’t know.” Trent sighed, “it just felt like a bad time.” 

“Shut up.” Marilyn said through his smile, reaching between Trent’s legs, while bending his own a bit to allow space between them for his hand. 

“I- oh!” Trent whined out as Marilyn’s long fingers grasped his erection through taught jeans. 

“It’s okay.” Marilyn whispered, kissing Trent’s nose as he blushed profusely. 

Trent bit his lip and nodded, as Marilyn’s fingers stroked him through the fabric, adeptly rubbing him there. He let out a loud moan, and Marilyn grinned at him. 

“The whole hotel will hear you.” Marilyn purred, which caused Trent to whine pitifully, blush rising in his cheeks again. 

Marilyn squeezed Trent’s cock through his pants and Trent responded with another loud moan. Marilyn smirked and continued to stroke Trent harder and faster than he did initially, and Trent responded well; bucking up erratically against Marilyn’s fingers, biting his lip. He let out a soft squeal and slid a hand shakily up Marilyn’s side, feeling the other man’s smooth skin against his fingers. Marilyn was warm, and he was really there, and he was touching Trent. Trent belonged to him. 

The thought made Trent’s vision go fuzzy, and he moaned again, louder this time, tears rising in his eyes.

“Don’t ever go.” Trent sighed out between moans, tears breaking free from his eyes, sliding down his cheeks. 

Marilyn mistook the tears of anguish for those of overstimulation, and he leaned in, pressing a rough kiss to Trent’s lips, sucking them into redness, hand grasping onto Trent’s cock tightly as the smaller body shook feebly against him. Marilyn could taste the salt of Trent’s tears and a hint of blood from Trent biting his lip earlier to restrain moans. With newfound vigor, Marilyn palmed and grabbed roughly against Trent’s cock in his pants, and Trent moved his hips up to meet Marilyn’s ministrations, as he choked on the flavor of his tears and blood and Marilyn’s warm, hard mouth, working at his own. 

Trent’s heart was rattling in his chest, and letting out a loud, soblike sound, his fuzzing vision and mind came to its conclusion as he came into Marilyn’s grasping hand. Marilyn sensed it, pulling back from Trent’s mouth, a triumphant smile on his face. That smile immediately faded when he saw Trent’s face streaked with tears.

“Are you okay?” Marilyn asked worriedly. 

“Yeah.” Trent sniffed, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

He looked beautiful like this, in a perverse way. 

Marilyn pushed the thought aside for a moment, trying to think back to what Trent had said earlier: don’t ever go. 

“I won’t.” Marilyn said outloud. 

“You won’t what?” Trent inquired, brow furrowing softly. 

“I won’t go.” Marilyn said, looking down at the man below him, thinking that the tears were beautiful, but the relieved look in Trent’s eyes was even better. 

Trent didn’t say anything, though the relief was apparent. Instead, he pulled himself up on his elbow, unzipping his pants with shaking hands and pulling them down his thighs. Marilyn stated, enamored of the pale whiteness of the skin. The front of Trent’s black boxers had a wet stain, something Marilyn would have teased about, if it weren’t for the clearly fragile state Trent was in currently. Trent pulled his pants off completely, throwing them aside, then looked back up at Marilyn. 

“I’m yours.” He whispered.

Marilyn stared blankly at the gorgeous man in front of him, his eyes scanning over every inch of skin; taught muscle, softness, everything. 

“Do I have to make it any clearer?” Trent spoke again, and Marilyn felt relieved that the man’s attitude was back. 

“What?” Marilyn asked dumbly. 

Trent rolled his eyes and got up on all fours. 

“Fuck me, dumbass.” He looked back at Marilyn, a playful smirk on his face, the remnants of sadness still there. 

“You really want that?” Marilyn asked gently, running his fingers down the curve of Trent’s back, stopping before the curve of his ass in his boxers. 

“Yeah, just as long as you show me I’m yours.” Trent hissed, pressing himself back against Marilyn’s hand, and Marilyn obliged, grasped Trent’s ass through his black boxers. 

“These have got to go.” Marilyn pulled the boxers down, revealing the pale skin of Trent’s ass. 

As Marilyn pushed the boxers down Trent’s thighs, strings of cum extended from the tip of his flaccid cock to the surface of his boxers. Marilyn smirked at the sight. 

“Cute.” Marilyn’s voice murmured deeply as he cupped Trent’s junk in a large hand. 

Trent whined softly, hiding his face in his shoulder, “Just fuck me.” 

“I will, don’t be so impatient.” Marilyn purred. 

“Sorry.” Trent mumbled, as Marilyn slipped his hand off Trent’s cock. 

“Have you got lube, Trent?” Marilyn asked, softly. 

“I don’t want it.” Came the predictable response, and Marilyn grinned. 

“Masochist.” Marilyn said teasingly, grabbing Trent’s ass hard again. 

“I mean, yeah, you knew that.” Trent let out a bit of wry laughter that transformed into a moan as Marilyn’s fingertip pressed against his hole. 

“Put it in before I get hard again. I want it to hurt.” Trent hissed, and his thighs shook as Marilyn stroked against the sensitive entrance. 

“Calm down, calm down, I’m doing it.” Marilyn murmured out deeply, maneuvering on his knees between Trent’s willingly spread legs, pressing a finger into Trent. 

“Fuck.” Trent hissed, squeezing his eyes shut against the new flow of tears that threatened to stream down his face. 

It hurt like hell, but Trent liked the burning feeling between his legs. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sit remotely comfortably the next day, and he liked the idea of that way too much for his own good. He groaned, shaking, pushing back against Marilyn’s hand. He could feel blood rushing to his cock, and he cursed himself silently for taking so little time to get hard again. Marilyn must have thought he was so, so.... 

“Fucking desperate, aren’t you?” Marilyn murmured deeply, and Trent opened his tightly clenched, tearful eyes, turning to look back at Marilyn just as the other man’s hand made contact with his newly hard cock. 

“Fuck.” Trent hissed as Marilyn’s long fingers clutched him, stroking roughly, as he pulled away the finger that had been inside him. 

“Bet you’ll cum the second I’m in you.” Marilyn grunted, and Trent could hear him unzipping his pants behind him, then the rustling sound of them being pulled down. 

“Fuck, probably.” Trent hissed. 

Marilyn stilled his hand on Trent’s cock, drawing a whine from the other man, then Trent could feel the tip of Marilyn’s cock pressing against his hole. Marilyn pressed in, and the tearing, searing pain surged through Trent’s stomach as the tip of Marilyn’s cock moved inside him. Coughing and choking through sobs and moans, Trent slumped against the bed weakly. Marilyn’s hand clutching his cock roughly kept his lower half in place, as the man above him pushed himself in to the hilt. 

“Shit, Brian.” Trent whispered tearfully through clenched teeth after Marilyn stilled. 

“You’re bleeding.” Marilyn responded stiffly. 

“Fuck me.” Trent sighed out, completely disregarding any concern Marilyn may have had. 

“Alright.” Marilyn moved his hands from Trent’s cock to his hips, where he grasped roughly, causing Trent to make another pitiful noise. 

Marilyn pulled out, and pushed back in roughly, looking down at himself entering Trent, the blood slicking up his cock, smearing red streaks. He dug his fingers more deeply into Trent’s hips, grasping flesh cruelly, thrusting so hard that blood smeared and loud smacking sounds echoed through the room. Trent sobs had fully transformed into moans. 

“I hope the whole fucking building hears us.” Marilyn hissed, “You’re mine and you know it, and so should everyone else.” 

Trent moaned in ascent, his fingers digging into the sheets, the pain and pleasure combined sending bolts of arousal through his whole body; his cock twitching, and his heart beating quickly. Sweat dropped down his forehead, his hair sticking to his face. 

“I’m your whore.” Trent moaned out softly, his statement, though quiet, penetrating the angry, frenzied movements and sounds. 

“Fuck, yes.” Marilyn swallowed the arousal pushing up through his throat. 

Marilyn could feel himself near letting loose; Trent was tight and slick with blood, and he belonged to him. The man was shaking under Marilyn’s touch; moaning, crying. Marilyn needed to make Trent cum to consummate the union; to assure that Trent was his, and his alone. 

“Cum for me.” Marilyn choked out, slowing his thrusts to a tolerable speed because his thighs burned in raging pain from the intensity of his previous movement. 

Trent let out an animalistic moan, then visibly inhaled deeply, his rib cage expanding. Without warning, stomaching the pain and cramping in his own legs, Marilyn thrusted back in. Predictably, Trent cried out, shaking, as Marilyn thrusted faster and faster, nailing against Trent’s prostate, until the smaller man let out a scream of pleasure, tightening against Marilyn’s cock. Marilyn looked down just in time to see sperm splatter across the sheets under them, then his own vision blurred, as his body slipped into the throes of passion, and he let loose too. 

Trent collapsed onto the bed, into his own mess, and Marilyn fell with him due to their entangled limbs. The larger man’s body weighed on Trent’s, and both men breathed heavily, just lying there, until Trent spoke up. 

“I can barely breathe, Marilyn.” He hissed, and Marilyn mumbled a tired apology, rolling off the other man, pulling out, streaking a line of blood and cum over Trent’s lower back. 

“Do you love me?” Trent inquired tiredly. 

“I love you.” Marilyn responded without hesitation, reaching out to pull Trent’s small, spent body towards him. 

“I don’t know if this will work out.” Trent sighed against Marilyn’s chest, “but I love you, too.” 

“Shut up.” Marilyn responded, kissing Trent’s cheek, then quietly adding, “Do you want me to clean you up?” 

“Don’t bother.” Trent responded, “I want to sleep in your arms.” 

“You’re mine.” Marilyn added, something curling in his heart; concern. 

“I was waiting for you to say that.” Trent sighed out. 

The men lapsed into silence, and Marilyn looked at Trent’s hair, wet from sweat, as he buried his face in Marilyn’s chest. Marilyn felt a newly developing wetness polling against his chest. 

“Trent.” Marilyn spoke, and Trent grunted in response. 

Marilyn unhooked one arm from behind Trent’s back and tipped his face up, looking into his eyes, and feeling unsurprised by new tear streaming out of Trent’s eyes. The other man’s pretty mouth was tensed into a thin white line; a thing that should have been on the face of a much older and very hurt person. 

“Trent, you’re mine.” Marilyn whispered, desperate to project the only sentiments he knew could make his lover feel better. 

“You’ll leave.” Trent whispered. 

“You’re mine, I love you.” Marilyn responded, cooing gently. 

“Don’t stop loving me.” Trent responded. 

“I never could stop loving you, Trent.” Marilyn whispered softly, kissing Trent’s cheek, pushing his hair out of his eyes, and looking at the beautiful green glow. 

He felt Trent’s body relax in his arms. Marilyn did love Trent, and his heart was expanding now instead of twisting. He hoped he’d never have to leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer so I don’t get sued: I’m a guy in a relationship with another guy and if you do any of the things mentioned in the chapter with someone the likelihood of STDs being spread or someone getting seriously hurt are definitely possible so PLEASE try to avoid them. use a condom. now u can’t sue me if u get something


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